


The Matchmaker

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Clueless John, F/M, First Kiss, Fluffy Ending, Gen, Implied Mystrade, M/M, Matchmaker Sherlock, Sabotage, Smitten Sherlock, THIS IS SO LATE I AM SO SORRY, sabotaging dates, this so fluffy i'm surprised i haven't contracted and cavities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1583759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>((i am so sorry, this is so incredibly late))<br/>Written for tumblr user DemisexualSherlock, her imagine in a full-length fic.<br/>demisexualsherlock:<br/>teenlock au where sherlock is a bit of a matchmaker and people come to him for either cases or matchmaking and one day john watson walks in and after a few talks sherlock is completely taken with the rugby captain and feels a strange tug of disappointment when john asks him to find him a girlfriend.<br/>of course sherlock deliberately finds him girls who aren't compatible with him, sabioges every date until john goes to talk to sherlock about it. sherlock confesses he's been sabotaging his dates and when john asks him why, he says, "because i want to be on a date with you" and then, dumbfounded, john kisses him</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Matchmaker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tumblr user demisexualsherlock](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tumblr+user+demisexualsherlock).



> DISCLAIMER: This work is entirely fictional. Credit of original forms of characters to the creators of BBC Sherlock. No Copyright infringement intended. The following is not in any way an official representation of the actual characters/creators/actors and actresses portraying any characters or people who happen to share a name with any potential original characters

          If one were to rely solely on romantic comedy films and novels, one may be fooled into thinking that matching people up for dates-of both sexual natures and not-one needs sentimental bonds with all participants. Sherlock Holmes could tell you the truth. What a person wants in a date is written all over, in their posture, in their speech, the level to which they hold eye contact. For instance, if a girl of athletic ability and poor social skills came to him asking to be set up with a boy, Sherlock would not, as a stereotype would suggest, set her up with a fellow athlete with whom she would relate. Rather, he would chose a quiet, intelligent boy who would understand her silence and teach her the meaning of his and create their own. He would hear a little while later-through the grapevine or from an excited thank you how they were dating, that they were in love.

            Love never surprised Sherlock, because he always knew what to expect. He knew which boys and girls would end their relationship with buckets of tears and packs of chocolate. He knew which boys and girls would become abusive in their relationship and not allow its end. (Sherlock refused to match these people up, and went as far as to draw the attention of the coppers in the area of those people to ensure the safety of the people chosen by the abusive individual to date.)

           This was until Sherlock met John Watson.

          Sherlock met John on a case, when he had caught a professors fixing tests and coursework of his several student-teacher affairs, as to keep down suspicion.

          "If he didn't want to get caught," Sherlock muttered as a man with pre-maturely silvering hair arrested the professor, "why would he sleep with so many people?"

          John had been standing next to Sherlock and had laughed at his complaint on the professor's lack of common sense in conducting illegal affairs, "True, but that was really clever of you, figuring that out."

          Sherlock had frozen, half from surprise from the compliment, half from 'Oh-my-gods-the-blond-is-cute-and-thinks-I'm-clever'. "Oh. Uh-thank you, It wasn't-he was a bit stupid, and very obvious, this 'case' was the easiest I've had in ages-if you can call it a case."

          John's eyes widened with recognition, "Oh, of course! You'd be Sherlock Holmes, yeah? I'm-"

          "John Watson, I know. Captain of the rugby team. Your family lives two streets away. Your father is a drunk and not allowed in your home, and your brother is going down the same road-possibly because he learned from your father, more likely because he just dumped his girlfriend. You on the other hand reject drink for a different addiction-gambling. Nothing major, its just for the adrenaline. You don't pick fights, you end them. You've got a sense of heroism and you're strongly considering joining the military when you turn eighteen, but I see you in a good range of science classes and the anatomy classes, so you want to be an army doctor." Sherlock drew a breath as John's mouth opened and closed in a minuscule oval, "You'll be an excellent soldier, of course. Tell me, was I wrong at all?"

          "Jesus," John muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, "how did you know all of that?"

          "I didn't know; I saw." Sherlock corrected, "The darkness under your eyes; you keep up late either working to support your family while your mother sleeps from her day shifts, keeping Harry out of trouble, or the occasional rugby match. You were raised in an unstable home due to your father, so you would favour the military for all of its strictness. So, if I may ask again, did I get anything wrong?

          John smiled crookedly, using mostly the right side of his face. He licked his lips before responding, "Yeah, dad was a drunk. Harry drinks too much for comfort, goes with a lot of different women since the breakup with Clara. I do work the nightshift, same place mum works the day shift. I am considering the military."

          Sherlock raised his eyebrows, "Spot on? I didn't expect to get everything right-"

         "Harry's short for Harriet."

          Sherlock was silent for a moment, then:

          "So...Harry is your sister."

          "Yeah. So you-"

          "Sister! There's always something!"

          John laughed at Sherlock's upset outburst before going on, "So do you take cases more interesting than student-teacher affairs often?"

          "As often as they come. Same as any job that requires clients while being based in a small town. I take them as they come."

          "Oh," John said, nodding in understanding.  The police began to clear the scene, telling everyone to go home, there's nothing to see here.

          "So, I guess I'll see you around?" John asked, smiling in a way Sherlock had never seen before. He smiled with mainly the right side of his face, showing his bright, white teeth.

          "I-er-yeah, I suppose. Same school and all." 

          John laughed and raised a hand in a final farewell. 

           _Yes,_ thought Sherlock,  _I will most definitely see you again._

* * *

 

          Friday evening, five days and as many meetings between John and Sherlock since their first, all was as it normally was in the Holmes residence. Sherlock was in his room, examining an unidentifiable specimen under the bright light of his microscope. Mycroft was away at university, most likely 'studying' with his boyfriend Greg. His parents were in their room, either reading or talking, he couldn't be bothered to figure out which.

          So, when there was a knock at the door, Sherlock presumed it was a potential client who wanted to be matched up in time for the Saturday night-whatever that was, Sherlock hardly cared to keep up anymore-he raced to the door, the tails of his robe flapping behind him. He was greeted instead by John smiling sheepishly at him.

          "Hope you don't mind-I asked your friend Mike where you lived. I-er-I needed to ask you something."

          Sherlock nodded, "Oh-okay. Come-you can come in if you like."

 

          Sherlock held the door open from behind, to let John in. He said, "If-we can stay in the-out here or my room if you want."

          "Sherlock Holmes, are you trying to get me into your bedroom?" John asked playfully, but through the look in his eyes Sherlock knew he was joking.

          "I-I wasn't- I didn't mean-"

          "I know you didn't. Your room would be fine, if that wouldn't make you uncomfortable."

          "No, its-its fine. I've just got to-" Sherlock gestured to the door of his parents' room. John nodded understandingly and Sherlock led him to the room, then went to the door to his parents' room. He opened it to see his father laying in their bed, reading the newspaper and his mother sitting on their couch reading a book.

          "There is a boy here, from school, who required my assistance." His parents were used to his coming and going clients, but preferred when he told them when they were in their house.

          "Oh? What's his last name?"

          "Watson, he's John Watson."

          "Oh, I've seen him at the shop working some days. He seems nice."

          "He is." Sherlock agreed, walking back to his room where John was looking around at the mass of experiments forced in a space too small for the lot of them. 

          "Your room reminds me of you." John said, grinning as he spotted the violin in the corner.

          "How so?" Sherlock snorted, "by the mess?"

          "Its full of information," John corrected, gesturing to the books, "and full of things everyone doesn't understand and wouldn't expect."

          "Anyway," John said, not allowing the awkwardness that was sure to follow the intimate compliment, "I actually-er, I wanted to ask you a favour, if you wouldn't mind."

          "Of course."

          "If-er, that is, if you could, I wanted to ask may you find me a girl to take as a date next Saturday? If it wouldn't be too much to ask?"

          "I-I can do that, yes. I-I'll tell you in school on Monday, so you can know if you already know her and if you...get on."

          John smiled that smile with half of his face, the one that Sherlock had thus far determined he had only ever used around Sherlock, "Thank you, Sherlock. I really appreciate it."

          "Its no trouble, really. Its all fine."

          Sherlock lead John to the door of his house and watched as he got in his car and drove away, even forcing himself to wave back when John waved goodbye to him.

          Sherlock shut the door quietly, wishing for the first time in a long time that he were just another teenager. That he could cry, collapsing to the ground on his knees. Instead, Sherlock walked numbly to the door of his room, but when he got there he found that he could not bear the thought of being alone. 

          So he went to his parents room and as he began to go through a mental list of girls most incompatible to John he curled up beside his mother, resting his head in her lap like he did when he was small and sick.

          The thing about Violet Holmes, however, was that she was a very clever woman, so she knew the meaning of his seeking of physical contact. That, alongside the leaving of a boy from their house, the only one she could remember Sherlock calling nice, put the pieces together almost instantly.

          Violet sighed and dropped a kiss on her son's forehead, carding her fingers through his hair as she held the book she had been reading so that Sherlock did not know she was watching him.

          "Oh, Sherlock." She sighed, wishing she could take away her son's heartache. But for now, all she could offer was support.

* * *

 

          By Friday Sherlock had had John meet up with seven different girls, each of them either horribly rude or in some other way incompatible with John. He sabotaged meetings as well, timing experiments to go off as the girls would go by to trigger outbursts of anger, tears and unexpected violence. Sherlock just kept sending John recommendations via text. He couldn't bear to look John in the eye while he deceived him, knowing that to some point the rejection of the girls must hurt him similarly to his own rejection.

          Saturday noon Sherlock had to go to the shop, as he was out of salt for his experiments. By mistake Sherlock went to the shop John worked at. He considered leaving and going to another, but John spotted him and was waving at him, gesturing to him to come over.

          "I get off work in a few minutes, would you mind staying? I've got to talk to you."

          Sherlock nodded and proceeded to buy the salt he came for. John was sure to be angry with him after they talked (it couldn't be about anything but the dates), it was possible that a rugby captain would become violent when angry, and it seemed rude to go into a shop with a potential bloody nose.

          Five minutes passed, then John put a 'Sorry! This line is closed, please move to the next one!' sign on the checkout counter and grabbed his coat, walking over to Sherlock, "Walk with me?" Sherlock nodded and kept next to John as they walked in the direction of their homes. There was an awkward silence, then:

          "Okay, I know by your silence that you know what I'm going to have to ask you about, so lets have it be done with already."

          "The dates."

          "Yes, the dates. It seems-and I'm not accusing, butt this is what it looks like-it seems like you've been purposely matching me with people you know I won't get on with. And, as well, its just a tad bit suspicious that the doctor's daughter-"

          "Katie."

          "That  _Katie_ just happened to step in a substance I only ever remember seeing in your room. Hmm?"

          Sherlock didn't answer, refusing to look at John. That lasted about ten paces before John walked in front of him, putting his hands on Sherlock's chest to prevent him from walking further. Sherlock recoiled as though he'd been burned. John's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

          "Sherlock, is there something wrong?"

          "No, nothing is wrong. I cannot be blamed if your dates go well, I never told any of those girls to be rude to you."

          "I never said they were rude. You  _admit_ you knew they were rude-"

          "Yes, I knew! I knew you wouldn't get on with any of them! I knew if I pushed them, they would behave in a way that repels you!"

          "Then why would you match us up?! Sherlock-why would you do that?!"

          Sherlock looked at his shoes for a full thirty seconds before saying in the smallest voice he'd ever spoken with, "Because i want to be on a date with you."

          John stared at the curly-haired boy, dumbfounded. Sherlock was still looking at his shoes, so he could not see the grin-the grin that took up half of John's face that  _John_ knew he hadn't discovered until he met Sherlock.

          He also couldn't see John's hand raise to take hold of his chin and bring their lips together in a sweet, albeit awkward first kiss.

          Sherlock's eyes widened comically and John smiled into the kiss, closing his eyes and putting all of the words he couldn't say into the kiss.  _I'm sorry. I'm sorry I asked that of you. I want to be with you. Do you want to be with me?_

          Sherlock felt his eyes flutter closed as he absolutely  _melted_ into the kiss, his arms rising to John's hips. When they were overwhelmed with the need to breathe, he rested his forehead against John's, keeping his eyes on John's, and vice versa.

          "So," John panted, nudging Sherlock's nose affectionately with his own, "would you, Sherlock Holmes, go to the dance with me tonight?"

          "What for? So we can see youths practically try to combine their genital cells on a dance floor?"

          "I was thinking for a date. Y'know, when two people who like eachother go out and have fun?"

          "Perhaps we can have a different sort of fun." Sherlock breathed, leaving the invitation open-ended, to be filled with John's imagination.

          "Oh God, yes." John practically whispered as he kissed Sherlock again, harder this time but just as tender and endearing as the first.


End file.
